Good Enough
by Darkest-Shades
Summary: To think that moments before he had just admitted to his best friend of seventeen years that he had a crush on him, still blew his mind. Of course, the reaction he received was what he had expected, but not what he would have wanted. KyleStan one-sided.


Your typical kind of one-sided love stories, but this is my take on it. I'm sorry, I just had to write. :) Eventually, I will write a real Kyle/Stan! Or another couple.. who knows. I do adore Christophe/Kyle, but I need to get a hold of their persona's. The boys may be out of character here too, but like I said, I just needed to write. I think it may be missing something though...(yeahyeah, cutesy smut.) Please enjoy. :)

Edit '08: Noticed I was comma happy in the old version. Fixed it best I could. ;)  
Disclaimer: South Park doesn't belong to me, otherwise, there'd be a lot of gay going on. lol.

**Good Enough**

_'From childhood's hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved alone.' (Edgar Allen Poe)_

An auburn haired teen sat dejectedly on a cold park bench, tugging absent-mindedly on the tips of his worn green mittens. When he sighed the warmth of his breath coalesced with the cool air and created a cloud in front of his face ever so briefly. The thoughts encased in his mind felt just as clouded and meaningless.

He had been so stupid.

To think that moments before he had just admitted to his best friend of seventeen years that he had a crush on him, still blew his mind. Of course, the reaction he received was what he had expected, but not what he would have wanted. He remembered sapphire eyes growing in alarm to his confession, a short cry of anguish, rough hands pushing against him, and his rear connecting with the icy hard floors as feet padded against the ground; escaping him.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered lowly to himself, ignoring his surroundings as he focused on that one continuous thought. It wasn't until a gauntlet of red, holding what seemed to be an open thermos of hot cocoa, appeared in front of him that he stopped his self ranting. Green eyes widened in surprise as they locked onto the familiar red glove leading to the common brown jacket sleeve and all the way to the calm pale face of Stanley Marsh. His inky black hair stuck out in contrast of his skin beneath the red and blue beanie that always seemed to be present atop his head. It sat at an angle, as if the owner hadn't cared much about putting it on.

"You look like you need something warm to drink," he offered as he situated himself in the empty spot of the bench beside his friend.

Kyle Broflovski, the smart Jewish kid who had a low tolerance for idiocy, gaped his mouth like a fish, with no words escaping the orifice as he took the thermos safely into his own fingers. Finally, after what seemed like minutes but in reality only seconds - words emerged.

"Stan, I-I'm-"

Without looking over, the black haired teen raised his hand flatly, the universal sign to tell the crimson-haired teen to stop; wait a moment. Kyle clamped his mouth shut and waited for the dark haired brunette to voice his thoughts. He almost had a deep-seeded fear that his friend - if he could still call him that - would tell him that he never wanted to see his face again. Stan had walked away from him sometimes, disagreed and quarreled with the Jewish teen, but to abandon him completely and never speak with again? It would be too much for redhead to handle.

"I'm sorry, dude," he said with a sigh, as he turned to his companion with an apologetic look on his face, "I shouldn't have pushed you."

Kyle bit his lip. He had not anticipated those kind of words coming from Stan after what he had confessed to him. He didn't recall any real words of disgust escaping the boy's lips before, but only a mangled cry of fear.

Lowering the warm container to sit on his knees, he counteracted the statement, "You don't have to be sorry about anything, Stan. I know it was something you didn't need or want to hear, and I expected that kind of reaction anyway."

The tone of his voice was sorrowful, but his shoulders shrugged off any emotion as he stared down into the milky warmth of hot chocolate.

Blue eyes stared, transfixed on the solemn face opposite of his. Truthfully, the ebony haired teen didn't like seeing his familiar down in the dumps, and it made his insides squirm to think that he was the cause of it. This was Kyle, his _best friend _and_ confidant_. They could tell each other anything in the world and have each other's support. At least, that's what he believed. Even amongst their joking tirade, he was never serious. Even now, he couldn't be.

His words broke the uneasy tension surrounding them as he leaned back against the bench, "You can drink that, you know, I didn't poison it," he quipped.

A small smile broke out on Kyle's face as his pointer finger rubbed idly around the edge, "I know," he replied softly, looking away.

Stan repressed the urge to sigh again and tilted his head back towards the grey-clouded sky. He could see his breath appear before him as he spoke, reassuring them both.

"You know, you'll always be my best friend Kyle, I don't care that you're gay or anything." Green eyes glanced over attentively as he continued his speech, "I mean, look, my dog was gay, and I got over that. I learned that being gay was just a part of his nature and it's a beautiful thing, really, I just-"

This time, Kyle lifted his hand and interrupted his friend's rambling, "Dude, I get the picture, I may have admitted to crushing on you, but you're putting in a few too many rainbow references for my liking."

His response caused them both to chuckle lightheartedly. Kyle was glad that they could both feel at ease again, to have moments just like this where they could laugh.

"I was just surprised, that's all," the once aloof teen admitted as he scratched at the side of his head absently, "I mean, remember back when it was all the rage to be gay, and you weren't into it at all? And now look…" he stopped, and shook his head, "Actually, now that I think about it, I'm kind of flattered that you have a crush on me," he remarked with a wispy smile as he too, looked towards his pal. For a moment, things seemed normal as the paler teen rolled his eyes.

"You take everything as a compliment, Stan. I swear, dude, I shouldn't have told you just to save you from your ego," Kyle mentioned before he took a sip from the thermos and felt warmed as it slid smoothly down his throat. He savored the chocolaty taste on his tongue and he smiled as the warmth, both from the drink and Stan sitting and talking beside him, settled in his stomach.

Stan grinned, "Well, compared to your options I suppose I _am_ your best bet, dude," He stretched his arms forward, straightening the fabric of his jeans, "I mean, there's Cartman," Here Kyle made a disgusted face, "and Kenny. Kenny's not so bad when he's not being over-all perverted."

"But when is Kenny not sharing his sexual insights with us?" the Jew interrupted, questionably. It was true, of course, the blonde was always muttering something incoherent but definitely dirty beneath his orange hood.

Stan shrugged, his cerulean blue eyes flickered with mirth as he rubbed his chin, "Maybe we could hook you up with Butters," he suggested brightly, "He's a good kid."

Kyle shook his head, "No, he stutters too much. I couldn't handle it," he replied, taking another drink to relax.

"Maybe Tweek then?" he continued, listing off names at random, "Or Craig."

"Look, Stan, I appreciate it and all," Kyle began, tiring of Stan's game and feeling somewhat hurt by it, "I just don't want to be with anyone else." He rubbed at his arm nervously at Stan's sudden stoic, blank expression, "I mean, I don't think I could be with anyone else, dude. If anyone, I'm glad it was you I liked, because as my best friend I was hoping you would understand. Deep down, I knew you wouldn't feel the same, but I think it would have killed me more if I hadn't told you."

Not waiting for a reply, the green-eyed teen, tilted his head back and downed the rest of the warm drink.

Cherry-gloved fingers flexed uncertainly as the owner nodded, "Sorry, again, I'm just trying to help. I guess I'm still a bit tripped out about it."

Ignoring the last bit, Kyle laughed with little force as he leaned back, the cold metal of the bench brushing the surface of his jacket, "It would have helped _more_ if you liked me back instead of pushing me onto the cold concrete, bruising my ass," he added, "but if you're still going to be my friend, then I won't ask for anything more than that," he compromised.

Lifting a hand to rest on the arm of the teen clad in orange and green, Stan tried his best for an easy let down, "Kyle, I love you, man. I just don't _love_ you, you know? But I promise I'll try to make an effort to respect your feelings as long as you respect mine."

"Yeah, I know, and I will, dude," Kyle responded, repeating his earlier words, this time with a gentle smile on his face. He handed over the empty thermos back to Stan.

"Thanks for that, man."

The pale seventeen year old didn't quite know if he was offering thanks just for the drink or for his words, but either way, he accepted them. Fingering the handle of the container, he stared down at the snow covered ground contemplating his next declaration. He was sure this subject would come up many times in the future, and it still left uneasiness in his stomach, but for now he believed them to be on good terms. He opted for a lighter change in conversation as he straightened his hat.

"Me and some of the guys are going to play football in the field near Stark's pond, do you want to come?" he asked amicably, kicking his foot against the ground distractedly.

Kyle's eyebrows crinkled as they creased together in thought, "I suppose. Yeah, that would be cool, dude."

A smile crept up Stan's face as he stood, his hand held out to help the shorter boy to his feet, "All right, just," he paused, he couldn't help but joke, "if you tackle me, no hands going below the belt, all right dude?"

A mischievous grin spread across Kyle's face at the thought. He began to understand Stan's joking as a way to come to terms between them, so he decided to joke right back, the guilty depression of his confession no longer clouding his mind. And who knows? Maybe he would change his thoughts for the better. For now though, he told himself, this was good enough. He placed a hand mockingly over his heart, wiping clear of the smirk on his face as he tried his best to look hurt, "Stan Marsh, it hurts that you think I would take such a cheap shot at you like that. I mean, really, dude," he pressed, "after I took the courage to spill my heart out to you in hopes that you would return my feelings-"

"_That's_ a cheap shot, Broflovski," Stan muttered, punching his friend's arm in a playful manner as he turned, beginning to walk away. He paused as he glanced back, "My mom was baking something in the oven when I left. I think it might have been a batch of cookies. You want to run in and grab some before heading out to meet everyone?"

Kyle smiled, genuinely this time, and nodded his head, "That would be great."

_Yeah_, he assured once more, trotting to catch pace alongside his best friend as he held onto the flaps of his lime green hat, _this was good enough_


End file.
